The Highlands are an old place, held together by human bonds and folklore. The folk here are simple, hardworking, and earnest. Naturally they don't take kindly to magic or the like–calling all forms of it 'witchcraft'. Though erroneous, there is some truth to the name. The forests are where the settlers avoid. Even the hunters keep away or try not to venture too far in. The alchemist herself had no intention of breaking taboo, but she was in need of a few difficult-to-obtain reagents. Hartshorn was plenty here, so were feathers and other bits and pieces she could boil down to their base essence. The fields of the harvesters were golden with waves of grain. Soon, it would be time for them to gather their crop.

"How're these, lass? Not often y'see people wantin' the tips of antlers an' the parts carvers toss out." A ruddy huntsman watched as the lady picked out choice fragments of bones and horns from various animals. "Yes, they're perfect. I could boil these down or grind them into a powder to enrich my soil. Thank you for your hard work, sir." Liselotte smiled, causing the man to grunt and look to the side. "Here you are, forty silver like I promised. This should last me for several months until Glaciem is over." She said, patting the large bag of fragments she had purchased off the man. When her business was done, she returned to the town of Aberlyn. The winds outside had been chilly as of late, so she couldn't forage the hillsides for long.

Rumors around this time of year were the usual old wives' tales of the 'fair folk'–an epithet used for the fickle otherworldly beings the Highlanders believed in. Cats who spoke and walked on hind legs, little creatures who stole food and ground grain at night, imps who caused mischief, and mysterious water-horses who drowned riders in the depths. It was a slow day, and dusk was approaching. With a couple of hours Liselotte would have to retire for the night.

He hadn't been in the highlands for long, but he didn't like the place. The people there were too nice and simple for him, although deep down he knew that this sort of life could be better for him. He scowled at a little bird landing on the ground, singing it's high pitched song. He threw his dagger at the little thing. He missed, but at least he got it away. '' Eh,.' he said. It's too small for dinner anyway. But caterpillars and grass didn't agree with his stomach, and he feared he might have to interact with those annoying townsfolk.  As he walked towards town he saw a man who was clearly a hunter talking to a young looking woman with bright blond hair. ''Hey hunter! got any meat?'' he shouted to the man who looked like a hunter.

The Highlanders were superstitious folk, which meant they could be both courteous to strangers and unwelcoming. The hunter crossed his arms, and gave the strange man a hard look. "Depends, stranger. Do y'have coin?" The people here lived off the land. If the land was generous, then they had plenty. The same went for the opposite. One year of bad harvest would put them in a precarious situation, which meant hunting was just another way to keep themselves fed. The man's differences were not in his favor here. He did look 'human' enough, but the hunter had his doubts. Seeing that she would be in the way, Liselotte took her things and prepared to leave. There was something curious about the newcomer, but she wasn't the type to be nosy. She was thankful that her negotiation had gone over so well. Part of her had been a bit apprehensive, contrary to her confident demeanor. Being branded a 'witch' by fearful villagers wasn't something she wanted to experience. Four out of five cases of such accusations later were proven false, and by then the accused was already in the Reaper's embrace.

She had refrained from speaking too much of herself here. It was a basic precaution. Once out of the hunter's line of sight, she whistled and a little wyvern the size of a cat flew down from a tree. She held the bag up to the wyvern, which it grasped in its talons. Following its flight, she returned to a small clearing in front of some trees not too far off from the village. A large Harenian lizard was sunning itself, taking as much of the warm Venti sun as it could. She had to keep him tucked away here when she went into town, fearing that they'd mistake him for a dragon. Basil was very amicable and well-tempered, but when people were misinformed it wasn't easy to convince them otherwise. The wyvern set the bag down before letting go, and went to perch on the alchemist's arm. "Did you wait long, Marcasite? I'm sorry you two can't come with me like usual. Once we arrive at a city you won't have to hide." Liselotte asked, stroking the little olive-green reptile. 'The air's become colder. It's much better than a dry heat, but I still prefer places that are warm.' Basil said, moving himself as the shadows began to encroach on his patch of sun.

"Yes, but it'll only grow colder with time. Are you sure you don't want me to sneak you into the stables? You'll be warmer there." The half-elf asked her mount. 'As long as there isn't any wind, I can manage.' He really was such an agreeable lizard. With a bit of earth, she had built a little earthen dome for her companions to rest in. The grass was still rooted above, so those who were less careful might see it as a small hill. It would keep them safe from prying eyes until it was time to leave. "I'll be heading back to Aberlyn. Help yourselves to the food. I'll be back bright and early in the morning." Giving both a pat on the head, she then walked back into the sleepy village. She was hearing whispers from the townsfolk. Something about a 'bean sidhe' sighting and dead livestock. Listening in, she stood by the stalls to purchase a bit of hard cheese.  

''Yeah, I have some money.'' He rarely had any, but a couple months back, he had done some honest work in Arri, so he still had enough for a small cut of meat. He wondered why that woman had bought bones. Maybe that was all they had and she was incredibly hungry. He knew he would gladly eat bones, especially since it kept his teeth sharp, like his childhood dog. '' No, I shouldn't think about that, it'll make my stay here even worse.'' ''What do you want?'' The hunter said. ''I've got small meat scraps,  bones, And one whole weird lookin' wolf. I don't suggest you eat the wolf.'' He said.''Rumor has it that it's one of the fair folk.'' He wondered what the fair folk were. Don't know, don't care, he thought to himself. ''Yeah, I'll take it.'' ''You're makin' a dumb decision, kid.'' He went to search for a nice place to eat his food. It tasted Awful. He only ate enough to get by and threw the rest to his snake. He went to the town to find an inn, because he didn't want to sleep outside in this cold weather. When he went to town, he found the same person who was buying bones at the hunter's place buying cheese.

"Thank ye, lass. So what can I do for ye?" The old cheesemaker asked as Liselotte pocketed the change from the purchase. "Oh, the usual. Anything interesting a traveler would want to know? How has the harvest been so far? Hopefully the cold snap didn't cause much harm." The man chatted with her a bit. Soon it would be time for everyone to turn in for the night, so he had some time to spare. "Bless th' Mother, we've not lost too much this year. Rumors of a dragon that used ta be here have died down, and we're thankful for it. No losses of livestock up until late Ignius–somethin' the folk out here are worryin' about still. Hakan came in a few days back with an odd looking carcass. Looked like a wolf, but with odd legs. Told him ta burn the blasted thing, but the fur traders haven't been by lately. 'Tis hard bein' a lone man by himself."

"I see, so there's been something attacking livestock?" She asked to confirm. "Aye, and with the Harvest Moons' dance comin' it's bad news. Folks been hearin' wailing outside the village at night. The bean sidhe are out, and who knows what goes on in there forest past the cairns? Best stay inside, lassie." As terrifying as the rumors were, Liselotte couldn't help but be curious. She had never heard of these 'bean sidhe', but there was a chance they were just a local name for some other common creature. Asking the locals more wasn't an option, as they would utter a prayer when she tried. Dusk was approaching, and she realized that she had forgotten to light a fire for Basil. "Hopefully I'm not too late…I should have lit the bonfire before leaving them."

Running, she headed back to the grassy knoll where her companions were. As she hurried, a piercing howl louder and deeper than any wild dog's tore through the air. She was feeling a chill run through her body, and pulled out her bow. Something was out there, she felt like she was being watched. Slowly, she reached to draw an arrow from her quiver. Being in an open area like this put her at a disadvantage. She had no cover, and at the moment had no idea where the potential threats were. There was a rustling in the low-lying scrub bush out on the fen. Notching the arrow, she held it steady and kept her eye on the movement.

He wanted to know if she was using the bones for cooking, because if so, that would mean there was a recipe for bones so good that even a species with such a limited palette like humans would eat it. He was following her until he  wasn't because he had lost track of her while following an annoying little hare, trying to end it's annoying hopping. He had cornered it but then he just couldn't. Some feeling of sympathy rose up inside him. ''I have to find out what those bones are for'' he muttered to himself. He saw a  human figure, thinking it was her, he dashed, but when he heard a howling, he stopped and fell. ''Oww!'' he exclaimed. ''Hey, you!'' He shouted at the person. '' What are you going to do with those bones?''. Just then he realized that no human would use something like bones in cooking. He hated his curiosity sometimes.

The sudden shout was enough to startle her into letting the arrow fly out of reflex. However her aim had been off and it missed the demon. Cursing in her mind, she quickly grabbed for another arrow to dip the head in a vial of poison. She was vulnerable now, and had wasted a shot. Then, a towering humanoid figure reared its ugly head in the moonlight–eyes glowering red. Snarling with a mouth full of fangs, spittle dripping as it frothed at the mouth–it was rabid and possessed by lunacy. A werewolf, or 'skinwalker' according to some. Quick as lightning, it roared and charged at the alchemist, and the best she could do was make a wall of earth burst forth between herself and its claws. There wasn't time to shoot, the enemy was too close!

She had to run, and that's what she did. But she had made the mistake of coming alone without a mount, or anything to effectively keep the wolf at bay. It was agile, dodging any obstacles she created from the earth. Once she managed to hit it with a clod of hardened soil, but it shook that off and kept chasing. This was the worst case scenario. Even if she made it to town it would still rampage. She didn't have time to hit it in its vital regions with her arrows as it was completely focused on her. Liselotte was afraid for once, with no sure way to escape or fight. She needed help, but would help come? Whispering a word under her breath, tentacle-like plants erupted from the ground–grasping at the werewolf. It raged and struggled, biting off one and tearing a few others. A few precious seconds to react, but what should she do? It was already breaking free.

He saw the thing attacking her. He was conflicted about whether or not to help. On one hand, It would probably attack him next. On the other hand, It would be fun to watch her die and she did shoot at him. He decided that the first one was more logical, but barely. He got his dagger and threw it at the werewolf. It missed and almost hit her. ''Hey!''I yelled.''Can I have that back?''. 

A blade whizzed by her, sinking into the dirt. Was somebody trying to fight the werewolf, or did they just miss? There wasn't any time to spare a thought. Taking her arrow, she liberally coated it in as many poisons she had on her person–cantarella, belladonna, hemlock, wolfsbane. But before she could notch it to her bow the rabid monster was already free. As it was lunging at her, Liselotte forced thorny brambles to rapidly grow form the ground to shield herself. Even then, it knocked her to the ground with a swipe and snapped its fangs trying to get at her. The brambles tore into it, but the furred hide offset their damage. Finally, at her wits' end she grabbed one of her poison vials and threw it into the beast's eyes. A bloodcurdling screech pierced the cool Venti air as the liquid did its trick, but that only served to enrage it more. In its unfocused frenzy, the alchemist quickly regained control over the battle. With a word a wall of earth rose and slammed up into the werewolf's jaw, then she sent the raised earth hurtling at it. While it was disoriented she pulled back her bowstring and simultaneously commanded the surviving brambles to hold its limbs fast. A twang was heard, and a yowl of pain. 

It didn't matter if the wound was in a vital area. That singular arrow had enough toxins loaded on the tip to kill five grown men in a matter of minutes. But werewolves were abnormally hardy creatures, so that wouldn't be enough to kill it. She was out of hemlock, having thrown it into the beast's face earlier. Adding another dose of poison through a spell, she was trying to whittle it down as fast as possible. The brambles snapped again, and the werewolf was in a blind rage. Smashing whatever it could, whatever focus it had was gone. Since Liselotte was the closest person out in the open, it charged at her again when something flew through the air and landed squarely in the monster's skull with a loud crack!

The werewolf froze, standing still. Then, succumbing to the accumulated poison and injuries it fell to the ground with a shuddering thud. An axe was now embedded in the top of the creature's cranium and dark blood began pooling beneath its head. Turning to see where the axe had come from, she saw the hunter she had purchased the bones from earlier. "…Good riddance. To th' Circles with ye, skin-walking mongrel!" The man walked from behind a stack of crates, retrieving his weapon from the corpse. Cleaning the blade, the light of the moon reflected off the metal. There were strange runic patterns on it, and the material certainly wasn't iron. Taking out a flask of alcohol, he poured it over the dead werewolf and struck two pieces of flint for a spark. The spark landed, and began to greedily burn up the fur on the beast. Once it hit the portions soaked by alcohol it burned brighter. Soon it was up in flames, and the man stood watching it turn to ash. "Tis the third beast in th' past two moons. More 'n more of them have come crawlin' out of th' wood. Must be those witches there, bewitching the wolves out 'n the fields." Turning to Liselotte, he gave a nod. "Ye got a scratch on ye, lass? Th' beast there was bearin' down on ye somethin' awful." Catching her breath, she shook her head. "No…I'm fine. Thank you. What–what was that thing?"

"A skin-walker, if ye never heard of them. They're beasts that become bewitched into monsters that change shape under th' moons. Sometimes 'tis a man that becomes a beast, but 'tis always due to a curse." The hunter explained. "I see… So which was it this time; a man or an animal?" She asked, looking at the burning pile. The smell of charred flesh and singed fur was strong, followed by the scent of smoldering ash.

He was glad the battle was over, but he was hungry for something to jam his dagger in. He decided to find another one of those wolf things, so he could satisfy his bloodlust. He grabbed the dagger off the ground. ''Hey!'' The man said. ''What are you doing here!''. Instead of answering the man's question, he said ''That wolf thing tasted disgusting.'' He then put the dagger in its jeweled sheath and set off to the forest. '' The forest isn't safe, kid!''. ''Don't call me kid.'' He said. ''I've experienced more than you ever will.'' He then preceded to wander off into the forest.